


Klaine Week 2013: Fic Masterpost

by Pterodactyl



Category: Glee
Genre: Klaine week 2013, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-04
Updated: 2015-07-04
Packaged: 2018-04-07 17:15:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4271421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pterodactyl/pseuds/Pterodactyl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All of the fic written for klaine week 2013, bar day one which can be found in the bowling alley 'verse.<br/>prompts: skank/badboy!klaine, naughty/nice, anniversary, wedding, reunion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Day Two: Skank/Badboy!Klaine

**Author's Note:**

> Day Two: Skank!Kurt and Nerd!Blaine

Blaine clutches his drink and stares nervously around the bar. Sebastian is off in the crowd, dancing with  _someone_ , and Blaine is half-tipsy and entirely miserable. Not one person has hit on him all night, save the older guy who’d backed off once he realised Blaine was under twenty-one.

He’s been people-watching mostly, hoping to catch someone’s eye and be able to walk away from the despondent barman and his constant, loud sighing, but nobody is interested. Sebastian had made Scandals out to be some sort of hub of gay sex where everybody could find someone, but it mostly seems to be filled with older men and college guys, and nobody is interested in high school senior Blaine Anderson.

“Well hey there, beautiful.”

Okay. Maybe one person.

Blaine turns on his stool and almost drops his drink. A familiar face is grinning at him, hair streaked with pink and dark eyeliner smudged around his eyes. Blaine manages to croak out a soft “H-hey, Kurt, uh -" 

"You look lonely.”

“Well, um,” he looks at his shoes, “I. Well.”

Kurt slides closer. “Too good for everyone in this bar, huh?” He knocks Blaine’s glasses crooked and grins when he splutters.

“More like too nerdy,” Blaine says a little mournfully, taking off his glasses to polish them on his shirt. Kurt clicks his tongue piercing against his teeth. “Well, you  _did_  wear a bowtie.”

Blaine rolls his eyes. “If you’re going to complain about my clothes…”

“Oh, I wasn’t complaining,” Kurt breathes, lifting a hand to tug at the end of his bowtie, “I, for one, find it quite attractive.”

“You’d be the only one,” Blaine says, taking a large gulp of his drink and then having to force himself not to cough it back up again.

“Well then,” Kurt grabs him by the front of his shirt and pulls him off the stool, “How about I take advantage of that and get you to dance?”

Before Blaine can decline he’s being tugged into the middle of the dance floor and Kurt’s hands are on his hips, guiding them from side to side with the music as bodies slide and gyrate around them.

“Wow, Anderson!” Kurt yells over the music, “I thought your glee club would have taught you better moves!”

Blaine wants to yell back that Tina calls him Snakehips Anderson when they’re rehearsing, but instead he bites his lip, presses in closer, and  _rolls_  his hips against Kurt’s.

Kurt’s eyes widen and he grins, snaking an arm around Blaine’s waist and tugging him in so they’re pressed chest to chest. “Didn’t know you had it in you, sweetheart,” he grins, and Blaine slides his arms around Kurt’s neck and says “Just wait and see,  _honey_.”

**

They must dance for over an hour, only taking breaks to grab another drink. By the time Kurt steers Blaine carefully from the bar, he is  _completely hammered_.

“Kurt, Kurt -”

“Hey, there, Drunky McDrunkface,” Kurt rolls his eyes, “I’m right here.”

“Kurt,” Blaine sighs contentedly, throwing his arms around Kurt’s waist and effectively bringing them to a standstill by his car, “Kurt, you smell soo good.”

“Wow, thank you,” Kurt slides his hand into Blaine’s back pocket, where Sebastian had put his car keys, “I really appreciate that.”

“You’re groping me,” Blaine giggles, “Feels good.”

“Okay, sweetie,” Kurt steers Blaine into the back seat, “I’m gonna drive you home, is that all right?”

Blaine’s face falls. “No, no, no, not home. Don’t wanna go home.” He tugs hopefully at Kurt’s hand until he follows him into the car, shutting the door behind him.

“What’s wrong with home? Are you not supposed to drink?”

“I don’ wanna be lonely,” Blaine says, tugging at Kurt’s shirt, “Don’t go.”

“Blaine -?”

“My parents don’t care,” Blaine whispers, crawling forwards until he’s mostly in Kurt’s lap, “They don’ care, they don’t - I don’t wanna be lonely. The house ’s too big.”

He sounds on the brink of tears and Kurt isn’t really sober enough to deal with this. “Hey, okay, don’t cry. How about - how about we get a hotel room for the night? That okay?”

“I don’t wanna be lonely,” Blaine says, and Kurt finally has the sense to put his arms around him. “Okay, Blaine. That’s okay.”

“Okay,” Blaine whispers, “Okay.”

The receptionist barely looks at them as they check in, and Kurt is pretty glad because Blaine is quite clearly under twenty one and very drunk. He tumbles onto the bed and immediately roots into the pillows, humming softly. Kurt pulls off his shoes and rolls him over to unknot the bowtie at his throat.

“Hey, Kurt, hey,” Blaine catches his wrist, “Hey, I really like you, you know that?”

“Okay, Blaine,” Kurt says, and then Blaine grabs him by the back of the neck and tugs him down so they’re about an inch apart. “No, Kurt, I mean it. You’re, like, so pretty, and I want to… I want to…”

Kurt closes his eyes and waits for the press of lips against his. Time drags on, and after a minute he opens his eyes.

Blaine is fast asleep, his eyelashes long over his cheeks and his mouth half open. Kurt huffs out a breath and rolls his eyes, popping the first button of Blaine’s shirt and rolling him under the covers. As he climbs into the other bed, he sort of hopes Blaine will remember what happened that morning, because he really wants to know exactly what Blaine wants to do.


	2. Day Four: Naughty/Nice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i wasn’t quite sure what to write for this, so here’s some fluffsmut klaine with halloween costumes.

“Kurt Kurt  _Kurt_  -”

“Shhh, shh,” Kurt grabs at his hands and tugs him into their bedroom, tumbling into the bed and losing his halo on the way, “C'mon, get those off, oh my god who’s idea was it to wear  _stockings_ -”

“Um, yours?” Blaine grins cheekily, throwing his devil horns across the room and wriggling out of the stockings, kicking his shorts across the room with them. Kurt yanks off his filmy shirt and lets it drop to the floor, squirming out of his jeans with some difficulty as Blaine giggles, reaching around unzip his vest.

“Shush, you,” Kurt growls, finally ridding himself of everything but his underwear and crawling across the bed to press Blaine into the mattress, covering his laughing mouth with his own and rubbing the palm of one hand up over his chest, effectively putting a stop to Blaine’s laughter.

“Oh, god,” Blaine groans, bucking his hips up, “C'mon, Kurt, please -”

“Shhhhh,” Kurt reaches down to hitch Blaine’s legs up around his hips, rocking down so they’re pressed up against each other in their boxers, “Shh, just kiss me, just -”

Blaine lunges up, digging his hand into Kurt’s hair and tugging him down so he can lick hungrily into Kurt’s mouth. Kurt gets his hand behind Blaine’s knee and pulls his leg up and that’s  _perfect_ , they can just - rock and rock and Kurt digs his face into Blaine’s neck and pants harshly into the skin there, pressing kisses against his shoulder and digging his nails into Blaine’s bicep.

“God, Kurt, you looked so - good in that costume, just wanted to blow you all night -”

“Can’t wait,” Kurt groans, “Fuck, just like this, Blaine -”

The friction is half painful and half perfect, and Blaine reaches down to grab Kurt’s ass, guiding their hips against each other, making a soft whimpering noise in his throat when Kurt finally rises from the fog of lust and tequila to open his mouth against Blaine’s throat and suck.

“Kurt - Kurt I’m gonna -”

“C'mon, baby, yeah,” Kurt reaches down between them and curves his hand over Blaine’s cock, trapped in his underwear and straining up towards him. He rubs his palm down once and then Blaine shudders and keens and comes, throwing his arm up to hide his face. Kurt gasps and swears softly and follows him, biting down on the tendons in his neck as his hips jerk forwards helplessly through his orgasm.

“Holy shit,” Blaine gasps, staring up at the ceiling, “I don’t think I’ve come that fast since -”

“Our first time,” Kurt says, feeling like his brain has fallen out somewhere during the mind-blowing sex, “We both lasted about two minutes.”

“Says you, I lasted at least three,” Blaine groans as Kurt rolls off him, kicking off his sticky underwear and pulling open the bedside drawer, tugging a couple of handwipes out so they can clean up. Blaine grumbles under his breath and tugs Kurt back as soon as they’re both mostly clean, curling up into his chest and rubbing his thumb over some leftover lime juice on his collarbone.

“We’ve been together four years,” he says, yawning, “You’d think we’d have a who cleans who up schedule by now.”

“No way,” Kurt brings his hand up to card through Blaine’s hair, “You always come first, you have to clean up. That’s the rule.”

“You make me come first, that’s why,” Blaine sniffs, “And I don’t always come first.”

“Sure you don’t.”

Blaine pinches Kurt’s ribs. “You’re a bully, Kurt Hummel.”

“You’re silly,” Kurt pats his ass, “My silly boyfriend.”

Blaine rolls on top of Kurt and rests his chin on his hands, pursing his lips. Kurt frowns. “Do I have something on my -”

“Marry me.”

“ - face? I mean, what?”

“We should get married,” Blaine repeats, smiling, “We should.”

Kurt gapes at him. “Are you serious?”

Blaine’s smile fades. “Do you not want to?”

“Are you kidding? I’ve had a ring since your fucking freshman year of college, you idiot, of course I want to get married! I’ve been planning the perfect proposal since senior year of high school and you have the gall to ask me when we’re naked and sweaty and it’s Halloween -”

“Kurt, hey, Kurt,” Blaine scrambles back as he sits up, then leans forwards again, trying to pull Kurt’s hands away from his face, “Are you crying? Don’t cry, we can pretend I didn’t say anything and you can still propose -”

“You’re a fucking idiot,” Kurt chokes, “Three years I have been planning -”

“I’m sorry,” Blaine kisses his cheeks, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry -”

“ - and yet it’s still perfect,” Kurt sniffs hard and wipes his eyes, “Goddammit, Blaine Anderson, of course I’ll marry you. But we’re not telling anyone.”

“What?" 

"We’re not telling anyone until I surprise my hungover boyfriend tomorrow with a lovely cooked breakfast and a very tasteful ring, and we’re not going to tell anyone that you proposed to me after sex.”

“Oh, god,” Blaine grabs his face and kisses him hard on the mouth, “There you go, zigging all over my plans.”

“More like you zigging all over mine,” Kurt pulls him back into his arms, “I love you.”

“Love you too,” Blaine grins, “Fiance.”

“Shut up.”

“We’re getting married.”

“Shut up, you dummy -”

“Married!” Blaine sings, jumping up to grab Kurt’s shirt and drape it over his head, and Kurt throws his arm over his face and laughs and thinks _I’m going to marry an idiot, and I could not be happier._


	3. Day Five: Anniversary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> angsty and weird but you know, it’s a fic. for klaineweek2013 day 5: anniversary

Kurt gets the email about two hours before he gets the knock on the door.

He’s opened his email to send out the notes he took in his Music Theory class to a couple of friends when the little notification pops up, new email from  _Tina Cohen Chang!_

> To: khummel@gmail.com
> 
> From: tinac-c@gmail.com
> 
> Subject: ?????
> 
> blaine sang this today??? what???? is going on???? he was all sad and stuff today idk idk kurt this is weiiiird

Attached to the email is a shaky cellphone video, only about thirty seconds long. Kurt opens it and Blaine’s voice blasts out into his room, sounding a little broken and horribly familiar.

“ -  _I hoped you’d be reminded that for me, it isn’t over -”_

He exits fast, his heart suddenly fluttering in his chest. “Fuck,” he says out loud, “ _Fuck_. Fuck you, Blaine, you can’t just -”

The date in the corner of his screen grabs his eye. March 15th. Two years ago today, Blaine kissed him for the first time.

Kurt feels like shit. He pushes his laptop off his knees and buries his face in them, breathing hard. “Not fair, Blaine,” he whispers, “Not fair.”

“Hey, Kurt, I’m going out with Brody tonight to make up for Santana being crazy,” Rachel calls, “Are you gonna be okay alone?”

“I’ll be fine!” Kurt says, proud of how steady his voice is, “I’ll be fine.”

“Okay, see you later!” The door rattles shut behind her and Kurt takes a deep breath and then stands up, slamming his laptop shut.

“No,” he says out loud, and goes to make himself some tea. 

**

Try as he might, he can’t shift the mood that hangs over him. He’s halfway through an episode of Deadliest Catch (the only thing that he didn’t watch with Blaine, on account of the fact that Blaine can’t watch things where real people die) when he gives up, mutes the TV, and goes to open the video again.

This time he makes it all the way through, right to the bridge. It takes three replays to register that Blaine is wearing a Cheerio’s uniform, because the emotion and the longing in his voice makes Kurt feel dazed and stretched thin. He feels sick with longing, he just wishes Blaine had never cheated, wishes they had never broken up like that -

Someone knocks on the door.

Kurt shuts his laptop again and drags himself upright, trekking over to haul the door open. “I told you to take your keys, Rachel,” he says dully, not bothering to look up.

“ _Kurt_.”

His head snaps up. Blaine is standing in the doorway, soaked through and dripping, his hair plastered to his forehead. He’s clutching his bag to his chest, eyes wide, and when Kurt stumbles back he takes a hesitant step forwards. “Kurt -”

“What are you doing here?” Kurt whispers, and his face falls. “Kurt…”

“No, you can’t just - that video,” Kurt breathes hard through his nose, “That Tina sent me. Do you know what it did - to me, do you know - Blaine,  _god_.”

“I’m sorry,” Blaine croaks, “Kurt, I just - I love you. I love you.”

Kurt wants to answer but his throat won’t move. Blaine takes another step forward and reaches out to cup Kurt’s face. “I love you. I wanted you to know.”

He turns his face blindly into Blaine’s palm and reaches up to grasp his wrist. “Blaine…”

“I love you,” Blaine whispers, “I love you.”

And Kurt can’t help it any more, he reaches out and tugs Blaine into him, crushing them together, and Blaine lets out a gasp like he’s breathing for the first time and fists his hands into Kurt’s shirt.

“I love you too,” Kurt whimpers, “I love you, Blaine, I love you.”

He doesn’t know where they’ll go from here, but he knows it can only be up.


	4. Day Six: Wedding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> dumb little drabble for klaineweek2013 day 6: wedding

“Kurt -  _uhn_  - c'mon, c'mon, please -”

“Don’t badger me,” Kurt growls, tugging at Blaine’s belt, “Goddamit, Blaine, why’d you have to wear such a dumb belt -”

“Says you and your three million layers - fuck!”

“Mmmhmm?” Kurt grins against his shoulder, tightening his grip around Blaine’s cock, “Still complaining?”

“Shut up,” Blaine gasps, tilting his head back so Kurt can mouth at his throat, sucking a hickey deep into the skin, “Shut up and be trashy with me.”

“Can’t be trashy if we’re already together,” Kurt pulls his hand out of Blaine’s underwear and licks a wet stripe up his palm, “Mm?”

“Fuck yes,” Blaine groans as Kurt begins to stroke his cock, “Please Kurt, please, harder -”

“I’ll do as I please, Mr -  _Blaine_!” He bucks against Blaine’s thigh as his dirty rotten scoundrel of a lover grinds his leg up against Kurt’s dick, hands wedged in the back pockets of Kurt’s pants. “Wish I’d had the foresight to bring lube -”

“At a wedding?” Kurt gasps, “Now that really is trashy - unh, Blaine,  _Blaine_  -”

“Wanna suck you,” Blaine gasps, his hips rolling helplessly up against Kurt’s fist, “Kurt, please, I gotta come -”

“Okay, okay, pushy,” Kurt speeds up his fist and Blaine’s quivering stomach muscles tighten as his back bows, his mouth opening soundlessly as he comes over Kurt’s fist.

“Fuck, Kurt - ah -”

“Beautiful,” Kurt kisses his throat as Blaine trembles through the aftershocks, gasping for breath. Kurt can’t help but grind down against Blaine’s thigh, he’s really hard and he really needs to come and he’ll ruin this suit if he has to -

“Hey, no, your suit,” Blaine mumbles, pushing him back and sinking to his knees in the footwell, tugging down his zipper and pulling his underwear down far enough for him to be able to sink his mouth down over Kurt’s cock. Kurt’s head thumps back against the seat and he gasps, fighting the urge to thrust up into Blaine’s mouth.

“No, don’t hold back,” Blaine says, pulling off with a lewd slurp, “Want you to fuck my mouth, Kurt, c'mon.”

“Fuck, Blaine, okay, just -” Kurt can’t put his hands in Blaine’s hair so he grabs his shoulders and thrusts up into the perfect heat of Blaine’s mouth, whimpering under his breath as Blaine groans and brings his hand up to cradle his balls, one finger reaching back to press dry against his hole and Kurt is  _gone_ , seeing stars and keening and bucking into Blaine’s mouth. Blaine sucks him through it, moaning hungrily in the back of his throat until Kurt whispers “Too much, baby.”

“Mmkay,” Blaine grins as he unfolds himself, leaning in to kiss Kurt on the mouth. Kurt is just about to grab him buy the collar when someone hammers on the door of the car.

“If that is Mercedes -”

“Oi! Messers Hummel!”

“Shit! It’s Santana!” Kurt hisses, hurrying to tuck himself back into his pants and zip up before she yanks the door open. Blaine casts his eyes about and then, miraculously, spots a spare packet of tissues and does the fastest clean up imaginable.

“Santana!” Kurt chirps, pushing the door open, “How coincidental, we were just looking for you!”

“Inside a steamed up car?” she arches an eyebrow. “Trashy. Will always be trashy.”

“Oh, whatever, Satan,” he rolls his eyes. She slaps his shoulder. “You guys are late for the photos, anyway. Berry is pissed.”

“Oh god, she got the schedule out, didn’t she?” Kurt reaches over to adjust Blaine’s bowtie and accepts the mint he offers, “She’s gonna kill us.”

Santana shoves between them and grabs their arms in a death grip. “We’ve gots places ta be, boys, so lets get this show on the road.”

They stumble into the venue half an hour late, blushing under the stares, and Rachel storms over immediately, brandishing her list. “You are -”

“Late, we know, we’re very sorry,” Blaine says seriously, “But Kurt -”

“I’m distracting,” Kurt says helpfully, “Very distracting.”

Rachel huffs a sigh and stomps back to the photographer, who just looks amused by everything. She directs them over to the backdrop of cherry trees she wants to take photos against, and calls the bridesmaids and groomsmen up first.

“Okay, come on, my grooms,” she calls, and Blaine laugh and grabs Kurt by the hand, tugging him up and then into a kiss. Kurt squeaks and then smiles, draping his arms around Blaine’s neck. When they break apart, it’s to whistles and cat-calling.

“I love you, Mr Hummel-Anderson,” Kurt whispers, “And I am so very proud to be able to call myself your husband.”

Blaine’s eyes go misty and wet and he whispers “I love you so much,  _Kurt_ ,” and Kurt really, honestly could not be happier.


	5. Day Seven: Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i already wrote kurt and blaine getting back together (sort of) in the day five drabble, so here’s our boys at an anderson family reunion.

“Kurt? Are you ready? If we don’t get moving soon, we’ll be late.”

“No we won’t, sweetie, we have hours before it starts,” Kurt glances at the clock on the nightstand. “Okay, an hour. But we’ll be fine.”

“Kurt,” Blaine whines, biting at his thumb anxiously, “Kurt, we really can’t be late -”

“Hey, hey,” Kurt catches his wrists and draws them down against Blaine’s chest, “Honey, calm down. It’s just a party.”

“We can’t be late,” Blaine repeats, and Kurt finally notices the blandness of his clothes. “What happened to the bowtie you were gonna wear?” he asks, frowning, “Is it dirty?”

“No, I just,” Blaine shrugs, looking at the ground, “I dunno.” He pulls his arms away and tugs at his cream sweater vest, his brows furrowed and looking absolutely miserable.

“Blaine. There’s something you’re not telling me.”

“I’m scared, okay? I don’t know what they’re going to say or do or -”

“Blaine, shhh, it’s okay. We’re going to be fine.”

“You don’t know that, you haven’t met half of my family, bunch of stuck up bigots with fancy cars -”

“Hey!” Kurt says gently, “Blaine, you’re making a mountain out of a molehill. C'mon, sit down a moment. Take a deep breath.”

**

Blaine rests his head against Kurt’s chest and sighs, letting the tension drain from his body as Kurt rubs his hands over his shoulders. “Okay. Wanna tell me what’s going on in a more composed way?”

“I’m tired,” Blaine says, feeling the bone-tired exhaustion all the way through into his bones, “I’m so tired, and I don’t have the energy to pretend that it doesn’t upset me when they refer to you as my friend or my acquaintance or god forbid my girlfriend -”

“Hey, hey,” Kurt takes his face in his hands and kisses him, “Breathe. Do you remember the first prom we went to?”

“Of course,” Blaine smiles, leaning his face into Kurt’s palm. “The first time I slept over at your house since becoming your boyfriend. We watched Moulin Rouge, and I pretended not to notice that you started crying halfway through, even though you stole my handkerchief to blow your nose and never gave it back.”

“I still have that,” Kurt smiles, “But do you remember what I said before I went back into the gym?”

Blaine barely has to think about it. “They can’t touch us,” he says, and Kurt kisses his forehead. “Or what we have, Blaine, they can’t.”

Blaine inhales shakily and Kurt slides their fingers together and presses their joined hands to his heart. “Blaine Anderson, I am so proud to be with you. If they can’t see that, well, sucks to be them. But we don’t need their approval, baby.”

“God,” Blaine chokes, “You’re killing me, Kurt.”

“I love you,” Kurt says seriously, “And that is all I need. Not your family throwing us an engagement party. Okay?”

“Okay,” Blaine sighs, finally feeling the crushing tension seeping away from him, “Okay.”

“Good good,” Kurt kisses his nose, “Right, let’s find that cardigan and that bowtie, okay?”

“All right then,” Blaine smiles, and lets Kurt tug his sweater vest over his head.

**

“So, Blaine, how’s life for you?" 

Blaine grits his teeth, his grip on his wine glass almost painful. He knows exactly what his mother wants him to say, and he’s pretty sure he’s bleeding where her nails are digging into his biceps. But he’s spouted picture-perfect explanations all night, talking about NYADA and his friends with only the vaguest mention of Kurt as his fiance, and he’s really, really fucking tired of it.

"It’s great, actually,” he smiles, “I recently got engaged, and I’m about to finish my final year at NYADA.”

“Oh! Who’s the lucky girl?” his aunt Jemima asks, her eyes lighting up. Blaine feels his mother’s grip tighten and she starts to cut in, but Blaine has reached the end of his patience.

“Hold on,” he says, and turns slightly so he can call “Kurt?”

Kurt excuses himself from the conversation he’d been having with Cooper and walks over, smiling. “Hi, Mrs…”

“Bailey,” his aunt says faintly, and Blaine grins. “Aunt Jemima, this is my soon to be husband, Kurt.”

Kurt holds out his hand. “Pleasure.”

“Likewise,” Jemima says, and then quickly “I think I hear Maurice calling, Theresa, I must dash.”

“Lovely to meet you!” Kurt calls, and then grins cheekily at Blaine, who has to bite his lip to hold back his giggles.

“Blaine,” his mother hisses, “What on earth -”

“I’m sorry, mother,” Blaine says, “But I’m not going to go around pretending I haven’t just got engaged to the love of my life. Apologies.”

“Blaine Devon Anderson -”

“I’m going to get more wine,” he grits, grabbing Kurt’s hand and dragging him through the crowd of his relatives. Kurt stumbles as they reach the refreshments table and Blaine catches him with an arm around his waist, smirking when one of his cousins looks at them with a shocked expression.

“Naughty,” Kurt murmurs as a waiter takes their glasses, “Flaunting me about like that.”

“What can I say,” Blaine grins, cupping Kurt’s jaw, “You’re very flauntable.”

Kurt laughs and kisses him sound on the mouth. “We should get back to mingling.”

“I doubt anyone will want to mingle with us any more.”

“Well then, we’d better go find some other sort of activity to do,” Kurt’s voice is husky and loaded with suggestion, and Blaine feels seventeen all over again, sneaking Kurt into his bedroom during a Christmas party so they could rut against each other and try desperately to stay quiet.

“That sounds wonderful,” he breathes, and lets Kurt take his hand and lead him back into the house.


End file.
